


The Moment

by Vanyel



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: He likes to kill when he's healthy, Medic oc - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-09 01:52:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6884152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanyel/pseuds/Vanyel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When it's kill or be killed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Moment

It was chaos. Explosions rocked the base, deafening Jermey the Medic as he rushed after the Heavy. He was actually keeping up for once-his eternal cold seemed to have vanished.

And the more he healed with his head clear, the more he realized that his team really was incompetent. Everyone seemed to call for him after even just the smallest injury, especially Soldier, blasting himself into the air with his rocket launcher and expecting Jermey to instantly be at his landing point. No one ever thanked him, either. He was turning back death itself, and they simply shrugged and moved on to getting themselves blown up again. And if they lost? It was somehow his fault. Always. His grip tightened on the Medigun with a suppressed rage.

The Heavy moved in front of him, and fell back, a quarter-sized hole in his head. Jermey cursed softly, ducking behind a wall before the Sniper could spot him too. Did the oaf never watch where he was going?

Footsteps padded towards him down the hallway, and Jermey looked around rapidly. No one to heal, and that was not going to be a friend coming towards him. His hand fell to his bonesaw, carried with him more out of habit than actual use, its edge rusted. What other choice did he have?

A Scout came around the corner into view, and Jermey leaped at him, saw outstretched. The first swipe missed, Scout dancing away and laughing at him-and a quick spin caught him in the neck, face frozen in that moment between laughter and pain.

It was like the world slowed down. Jermey could feel every twitch of his muscle, every tooth of the saw digging into the Scout’s neck. He could see each blood vessel break, each piece of flesh tear, each shred of bone snap. The Scout’s scream rang endlessly in his ears, sweeter than a symphony.

A slow, sadistic smile spread across Jermey’s face. He wanted more. He wanted more of this. More of this feeling of power, of control, of pure feeling. Jermey needed more.

The world came back into motion, Jermey yanking the bonesaw out of the Scout’s neck as he stumbled back, holding the wound. He didn’t even think the Medics COULD fight. “Aw geez!” He raised his bat-

Jermey ducked the wild swing, rushing forward and shoving the saw deep into the Scout’s ribcage, letting out a noise of pure delight. That rush as he heard bone and organs part under his power was headier than any alcohol. He twisted the saw, watching the Scout’s face as he screamed in agony, ignoring the blood gushing onto the front of his uniform. A mark of victory he could admire later, relive this moment.

Finally, the Scout’s screams faded into silence. Jermey watched as the light left his eyes, almost feeling the life leave his form. He dropped the body, yanking his bloodied saw out and staring at his own reflection.

Hurting. Killing. It was so much better than healing.

His grip tightened on the bonesaw, and Jermey looked up towards the battlefield.

Time to go do some more.

**Author's Note:**

> Jermey is my friend speakingwithspectres' medic oc eyyyy


End file.
